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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25636516">and it's hard to be at a party (when I feel like an open wound)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_strangest_person/pseuds/the_strangest_person'>the_strangest_person</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Anne with an E (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Ex Lovers, F/M, Heartbreak, Idiots in Love, Love, Love/Hate, Making Out, Mild Smut, Miscommunication, Renew Anne with an E, Sex, Shirbert, Sorting out feelings, based on this is me trying from taylor swift, but they still miss each other, can't have a party without some heartbreak, clueless babies, folklore is a masterpiece and you can't prove me wrong, its getting hot in here, no really its very angsty, stuck in elevator, they are still thirsty for each other, who is suprised</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 11:00:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,325</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25636516</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_strangest_person/pseuds/the_strangest_person</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>when she showed up to her friend's engagement party, anne certainly didn't expect to see her ex-boyfriend gilbert blythe in the doorway - or that it would be so hard to look him in the eyes. </p>
<p>and she certainly didn't expect to get stuck in an elevator with him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>203</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Shirbert smut</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>and it's hard to be at a party (when I feel like an open wound)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>so this has been planned for months and then taylor swift just woke up one morning and said "let me create the perfect song to match jodie's fic", and then created 'this is me trying' - you heard it here first folks.</p>
<p>(also slight trigger warning : early on I describe a panic attack, please skip past anne running to the bathroom and pick back up when she is waiting at the lift if this will affect you)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The glass shattered into pieces on the floor, reminiscent of her heart on the day he walked out of their apartment.</p>
<p>It was gripped firmly in her hand at first, held at an angle as Diana got ready to pour in more champagne -- <em>cheap</em> champagne but free nonetheless.  And she hadn't even been there long enough to get drunk, doing a pretty good job of keeping that smile on her face, trying not to wince at Ruby's excitable shriek before the blonde launched herself across the room and forced her into a too-tight hug. Her eyes might have scanned the room more than once (just to be safe) and it was possible that she refused a sharing platter of nachos because of the churning in her stomach <em>(god</em> - could it just <em>go away</em>). But the hotel bar was dark and intimate, littered with attentive staff and familiar faces from high school. She nodded along to the pleasant conversation and took a swig of her champagne as they fawned over Ruby's engagement ring and the story of how her fiancé proposed. But every time the sparkly diamond caught the light, it might as well have been a pile of rocks attached to her ankles, pulling her down, down, down - a reminder of the future she gave up on. Regardless, she mumbled <em>'congratulations'</em> in her friend's ear and hoped that it half-sounded like she meant it. And her hand around the glass -- it held <em>a firm grip.</em></p>
<p>He wasn't even looking at her and her hand fell away.</p>
<p>There was no logic in a face : one mouth, one nose, two eyes, a pair of ears - no logic at all in such simple features rendering the grip in her fingers useless. But the next thing she knew, the room fell silent and her friends turned to look at the mess below her feet and <em>fuck it</em> - he was definitely looking at her now.</p>
<p>His hair still curled around the ears. It had been their first date at the fanciest restaurant they could manage and he had styled back his hair to impress her, but she immediately ruffled his head so that the curls sprung back into life, telling him that she liked it just as it was. And he had brought his favourite jacket with him. The one he had always placed around her shoulders after ignoring her protests, even from the very first night they met at a crowded party. He had laughed when she later confessed several months into the relationship that she never brought a jacket with her on dates because she preferred to wear his, and by the twinkle in his eyes, he had suspected it for a while. He hadn't grown any taller, fists still clenched by his side and his lips still parted at the sight of her. There was not a freckle out of place, and although the lights were dim and he was across the other side of the bar, she was willing to bet that there wasn't a single flicker of green missing from those eyes. She still knew every detail, every habit, every quirk - still hazy in the back of her mind like trying to forget your favourite story. There were pages filled up with their stories, anecdotes and years worth of memories that she had been trying to push out of her mind and all it took was him walking into the room for them to flood back to her ; but it was pointless because the thousands of stories couldn't make up for the ending. </p>
<p>It was a fresh bruise - still throbbing under her skin. Her heart an open wound with broken skin, constantly at risk of infection and further damage. She could try to cover it up with bandages or disinfect it with rubbing alcohol, letting it sink in and burn the area. A dull ache was supposed to be the sign of healing, but it was an ache at all - constantly scorching her flesh and trying to raise out of her skin with an even harsher sting.</p>
<p>Many concerned eyes followed, broken glass crunching under her heels as she stumbled away from the scene of the crime. Or perhaps the forensics lab, for she knew that the original scene of the crime was twenty minutes up the road by her favourite tree-lined path, the path she walked for hours once he had left her with a half-empty apartment.</p>
<p>And now  that her limbs were no longer paralyzed - the panic trickled into her lungs like dry ice.</p>
<p>She couldn't breathe.</p>
<p>Her hands settled on the first thing they could find after she pushed open the bathroom door, fingers clenching as they tried to anchor onto the large basin. She felt like a madwoman, gasping and spluttering as she stared at herself in the mirror, cheeks puffing up with air that didn't seem to be reaching her chest. That churning sensation in her stomach tripled, nausea mixing in and she almost wanted to force herself to vomit in hopes that the feeling would go away. But it wasn't going away. She clenched her watery eyes shut, clamping her lips shut so that she didn't let out a series of ghastly sobs. Her lungs ached with the need to breathe and Anne let her arms cradle her abdomen as her body tried to collapse in on itself.</p>
<p>The blackness crept across her vision and she let out a series of slurred whimpers, groaning under her breath : <em>no, no, no, no</em>...her limbs continued to tremble, legs like jelly, chest concaving as the energy drained out of her. She didn't even have the energy to reach towards her blurry reflection, unable to talk herself into sitting down on the floor so that she could put her head between her thighs. She longed for the foetal position, longed for somebody to hold her but she feared that her body would violently reject any sense of  touch. It trembled and jolted as her brain sieved through fragmented thoughts.</p>
<p><em>"Anne!"</em> Diana had pushed her way through the door, unsure of whether to touch her. "Anne...breathe with me..."</p>
<p>She held up a finger as if signalling that she simply needed a minute to collect herself, but her heart was still hammering away against her ribcage and whenever she tried to steady her shallow breathing, she almost dry-heaved. Diana hovered helplessly, gnawing on her bottom lip as she watched her best friend let out whimpers against the bathroom mirror, fogging up the glass with her hot breaths. Anne squeezed her eyes shut as another several minutes past, throat dry from hyperventilating, stomach rolling with nausea, heart ready to launch itself out of the window onto the cold slabs of pavement below. Logically, she knew she was safe : in a fancy bathroom, phone just in her pocket, Diana right by her side - but in that moment, her brain wasn't accepting logic. The world was collapsing in on her and she couldn't help the sudden shivers that overcame her at the thought of this panic of inevitable doom lasting forever.</p>
<p>Once she finally managed to steady her breathing, she glanced up in the mirror and groaned at the mascara smudged down her face, cheeks pasty and splotched with redness. She tried to run her hands over her face with a long breath, convincing herself that she was okay. It was hazy and Anne was not sure how much time had passed, the world was always a stranger after the effects  started to subside.</p>
<p><em>"A-Anne, I'm so sorry...",</em> Ruby, who had apparently entered in the middle of her hazy panic attack, sounded like she was moments away from crying, "...Moody said he wasn't coming, that he didn't RSVP...<em>I'll kill him-"</em></p>
<p>"Are you okay?" Diana interrupted in a soft, quiet voice.</p>
<p>She nodded once.</p>
<p>Her hands were still violently shaking.</p>
<p>"We can stay with you for a-"</p>
<p>Her voice was robotic. "I didn't know you were still f-friends with him."</p>
<p>"Moody wanted to contact our old friends from high school...as a kind of reunion", Ruby confessed meekly, "...we didn't want to bring it up in case it upset you."</p>
<p>"I must have muted his social media."</p>
<p>Diana wrung her hands together uncomfortably, remembering the exact night they both had too much to drink. It had been her idea to mute him on social media, a lighter alternative to Anne's method of blocking. It had always been a temporary solution to keep her happy, to stop her from seeing anything that she didn't want to see, but somewhere along the line, perhaps from the beginning, Diana had always been hoping that it was just that - <em>temporary.</em></p>
<p>"Is he here alone?" she croaked.</p>
<p>They both nodded and it should have been a relief. It should have eased the trembling in her fingers and made her feel more comfortable at the thought of him turning up solo, just like her. Maybe they could even squeeze in a casual conversation, like they really were nothing but old school chums. But if anything, it had the opposite effect. For she knew that somewhere along the line they had gone from acquaintances, to (sort-of) friends, to lovers, to everything, to <em>nothing at all.</em> And when her feelings for him rushed in all at once, through analyzing insignificant details in text messages and wondering if he let everyone see that smile (or when she was feeling hopeful - if it was just for <em>her</em>), she  never stopped to imagine that one day she would feel sick at the thought of seeing him again, <em>face to face</em>. After all, face to face meant nowhere to hide.</p>
<p>"I think I'm just going to go back to my room for a while...", she murmured weakly, "...will you tell everyone that I'm not feeling well?"</p>
<p>Her two friends exchanged hesitant glances, in a way that let her know they were having their own silent conversation. Anne squeezed her eyes shut and tilted her head back, knowing she was <em>done</em> with watching everyone tiptoe around her and swap awkward looks. It had happened from the very beginning, starting with feigned concerned phone calls and ending in piles of sympathetic messages in her inbox. There were strangers offering a shoulder to cry on, distant relatives offering to take her out for the day. It never occurred to her that ending a four year relationship could make you so <em>popular.</em></p>
<p>And she could suddenly understand the fucking anger of those that heard the words <strong><em>"sorry for your loss". </em></strong></p>
<p>It seemed selfish, to put herself in the same bracket as those that had lost their loved ones forever, their memories and stories erased in a single moment. But in a way, she had lost someone. She had lost the person that knew her like the lines on his palm, the person that stayed awake listening as she whispered her secrets over the phone, the person that held her when she was falling apart and didn't want anyone else to see, the person that was once her best friend<em>. It hurt</em>. It fucking <em>hurt </em>to have him so close yet so out of reach. They still lived in the same city, and Toronto had never felt so small. And she had to live with the knowledge that she could walk up to his door, she could walk right up to it on any day of the week, and he would still be there. But he wouldn't be her best friend. He would be a ghost, an outline of the person that she once knew, with new stories and new secrets that she would no longer be a part of. And truthfully, she would always be partly to blame.</p>
<p>...</p>
<p>She was waiting for the elevator. It was dark and shiny, reflecting the chaos of the party that she was leaving behind. But most of all - it was fucking <em>slow.</em></p>
<p>"C'mon...", she groaned, "...c'mon you piece of shit-"</p>
<p>A throat cleared behind her.</p>
<p>And just like that, there was no more time to imagine what would happen the first time she saw him face to face, no opportunity to picture his face in her mind or spend months agonizing over what he would say. He was right behind her and she didn't need to turn around to know that it was him. She knew it by the smell of pine needles and spearmint that he seemed to carry everywhere, and by the sound of his fingers already scratching awkwardly at the back of his neck. And she knew it by how her heart physically <em>lurched </em>at the thought of being a mere two meters away from him. She was trying, she really was <em>trying</em>. It was hard enough to stand there and pretend that she didn't want him anymore, but it was even harder to see him so unaffected.</p>
<p>He didn't seem to have any problem with standing beside her, eagerly drinking in the sight of the girl that he walked away from, taking notice of the stiffness in her shoulders and perhaps lingering for too long on the revealed skin of her back.</p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>Why did she ALWAYS have to go for backless? </em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p>He was wearing a white shirt underneath his black jacket, and she was almost certain that it was new. He never did like wearing shirts to parties, claiming that it reminded him too much of the uncomfortable med school slacks that he threw on every morning before class. Other than the new shirt, he looked just the same as the day he left (albeit a little paler from the recent winter months). His expression was reserved, just like Diana had once described when she bumped into him a mere week after Anne had stamped all over his heart, but she knew that underneath the mask he had learned to live with - there would always be something tender. There was a small thread on the corner of his elbow and she wanted to pick it off with her nails like she always did, and maybe unbutton that crisp white shirt and run her tongue down his sternum - and <em>God</em> she was not drunk enough for this. She wasn't even drunk at all and the elevator was still halfway up the building.</p>
<p>
  <em>"Hi."</em>
</p>
<p>It was merely a whisper, verging on a question and her head snapped back to the elevator that had still not yet arrived on their level.</p>
<p>She kept her eyes on the lit-up button. "Hi."</p>
<p>She tried to glance at the second elevator out of the corner of her eye, the one on the opposite end of the hotel lobby, "...the other one is out of order...", he explained quickly and she wanted to cry at how he could still read her mind. She nodded once to show that she understood and turned back to face the elevator.</p>
<p>Anne couldn't help reaching forward to press the button again.</p>
<p>It seemed like a good alternative to falling down to the floor like a child, throwing a tantrum over the universe keeping her in the worst hands possible. What caused elevators to break down anyway? Who decided<em> that</em> elevator should break and leave only <em>this one</em> available? The echoes of the pop music Ruby had surely chosen seemed to grow louder, taunting her with the idea of heading back and plastering that stupid smile back on her face. But she wasn't certain that it would stick this time. In truth, she had never been religious but she was seconds away from getting down on her knees and praying for this elevator to arrive.</p>
<p>It seemed he was not in the mood to forgo small-talk. "How have you been?"</p>
<p>Anne grit her teeth. "Fine, you?"</p>
<p>"Just fine."</p>
<p>"That's good."</p>
<p>She pressed the button again just for good measure.</p>
<p>"How is the new job going?"</p>
<p>Her side glance was apparently enough for him to look slightly uncomfortable, "How did you know about that? I didn't know you were still close with-"</p>
<p>"I must have seen something online."</p>
<p>"Huh."</p>
<p>They both seem to be content to leave it at that, to ignore the blatant subtext that they both knew all-too well. Or maybe it was just easier to pretend. Whatever the reason, he pretended that he didn't hear her sigh of relief as the elevator button finally went out, signalling that it had arrived at the bottom level of the lobby. They both shifted, straightening up as the mechanical doors opened for them to enter. After a few moments of awkwardly fumbling with the buttons for their levels (Anne's shoulders relaxing slightly when she discovered their rooms had been put on different floors), they both retreated to opposite sides of the elevator.</p>
<p>And then it was just the two of them, and the obnoxious <strong><em>ding</em></strong> of the elevator doors closing behind them.</p>
<p>"I bumped into Marilla last week."</p>
<p>It felt like a punch to the gut, not the thought of Marilla exchanging pleasantries with the person that her daughter dated for four years, but the fact that her adoptive mother had mentioned nothing about it. She had barely brought up his name since the break-up and Anne wasn't even sure if she was ready to hear it.</p>
<p>"Did she say anything about me?" Anne blurted out and then winced.</p>
<p>He glanced at her. "A little."</p>
<p>"What?"</p>
<p>"Why do you want to know?" he tested.</p>
<p>Anne swallowed another jab and merely shook her head with a grunt, hoping that he would leave the subject untouched.</p>
<p>But of course, he couldn't. "It's not like we haven't talked about you before, in fact I probably already know anything that she would dare to tell me so-"</p>
<p>Her fuse fell short, <em>"Oh, for fucks sake!</em> Do you really <em>have</em> to-"</p>
<p>It was an interruption that neither of them were expecting, a jarring sound that rippled through the elevator. And they both felt weightless for a split second before the entire shaft jolted, Anne letting out a small cry as his body stumbled into her, hand pressing against the wall beside her head to catch himself. The entire space went dark, not pitch black - but lifeless. The buttons were no longer lit up, everything still and quiet except the distant sound of creaks, as if the cables were about to snap. His eyes met hers for the briefest of seconds and they both shivered at the feeling of being so close for the first time in so long, but before she could even blink - he pushed himself away from her. He made his way back to the opposite side of the elevator and leaned against the wall slowly, testing its sturdiness and hoping that the entire shaft wouldn't tilt or drop several storeys.</p>
<p>Anne however, was up and moving around at the first opportunity. She ran her hand against all of the walls, tried to reach up to the top and he was almost worried that she would experiment with jumping and send them plunging to their deaths. Her finger reached for one of the buttons and she pressed them insistently, getting more and more violent as she mumbled curse words underneath her breath.</p>
<p>"That's not going to get you anywhere", he informed her.</p>
<p>She ignored him. "There has to be a emergency line, right? Where is it again?"</p>
<p>"Beside the red button-", she tried pressing it and even speaking into it but nothing was working, "...<em>it's not going to work.</em> The power is out and that means that the signal is cut from the elevator shafts to the main lobby. I'm assuming the power is out in the entire hotel."</p>
<p>"But we stopped before the lights went out, that means it must be a problem with the elevator, maybe somebody cut the wires and-"</p>
<p><em>"No"</em> he sighed sharply, "...the elevator stopped because that is the first thing that happens with any electrical errors or power outages. It's a safety measure, just like when there is a fire they are immediately put out of use-"</p>
<p><em>"I know that!",</em> she huffed, "...but there has to be <em>something</em> working, otherwise how do they know that we are trapped in here-"</p>
<p>He shrugged. "I'm sure they will find out when the power comes back on."</p>
<p>"Well that's just <em>ridiculous!"</em> she crossed her arms over her chest, looking around the dark elevator in the hopes that a magical solution would pop up. "...there has to be some other way for us to get out-"</p>
<p>He sent her a look. "Are you going to<em> fly</em> out?"</p>
<p>"At least I'm trying!", she protested hotly, "...instead of just standing there doing nothing!"</p>
<p>He slid down to the floor and sat there, stretching his legs out and crossing one foot over the other. The smirk he sent her was criminal and she frequently remembered wanting to slap it off his face, or kiss it off. <em>To slap it off</em> - was the <em>sane</em> option, she reminded herself. She settled for glaring at him as he tried not to laugh, <em>"...there!</em> Now I'm <em>sitting</em> here and doing nothing. And besides, I'm waiting."</p>
<p><em>"Oh!",</em> she threw her hands up, going back to testing the buttons, "...you're <em>waiting-"</em></p>
<p>"It's better than whatever you're doing, which might I remind you - is going to get us nowhere. But instead you're trying to get us killed-"</p>
<p>"I am<em> not</em> trying to get us killed-"</p>
<p>"Besides, you were waiting for the elevator first, it's not my fault the other one was out of order-"</p>
<p>"What does that matter?!"</p>
<p>"Well, why did you leave the party so early?" he challenged.</p>
<p>Anne gritted her teeth. "Why did <em>you?!"</em></p>
<p>He ignored her. "You think you know best! In fact, you always did-"</p>
<p>"You know what?!" she snapped, turning around to send him a vicious glare that had him stopping still, <em>"...you are the last person on earth that I would want to get stuck in here with."</em></p>
<p>He turned away. "For once we agree."</p>
<p>And that was that - at least for now.</p>
<p>...</p>
<p>Somewhere along the line, Anne gave up and sat down on the opposite end of the elevator, trying to keep her eyes on her stretched legs so that they wouldn't meet each other's gaze. She feared that she would never be able to tear her eyes away, that they would try to catch up on all of the insignificant tiny details she had missed, that she wouldn't be able to stop herself from leaning closer and finding out if his heart was pounding away just like hers. It seemed neither of them had the energy to fight, and she wondered if they would walk out of the fixed elevator without another word, going back to their separate lives that never seemed to intertwine. She wondered if they would be able to just walk away like that. </p>
<p>"Bash misses you."</p>
<p>It was said with a sort of half-sad shrug, his lips pressed together as if he was trying to extend an olive branch. Anne felt her mouth twitch into an almost-smile, remembering days of sneaking stolen kisses to avoid his teasing, nights of family scrabble and the way that he danced stupidly when he was deliriously happy. It was an echo of what used to be, of what she could still have if she wasn't such a coward and her heart started to ache.</p>
<p>"I miss him too", she confessed.</p>
<p>"I think Delly does too, after we- in the beginning, she used to ask when you were coming over. After a while, I guess she just stopped."</p>
<p>She felt her heart clench, "Has she grown much?"</p>
<p>He started to smile, "She grows everyday...we might have to start calling her bean stalk soon. And she's the smartest five year old in all of Toronto."</p>
<p>"Probably in all of <em>Canada"</em> Anne added.</p>
<p>It felt wrong, like they weren't supposed to sit there and exchange small-talk about their families, to pretend that nothing had changed. It had changed, <em>they </em>had changed and she was waiting for the steel cables to snap once they heard their easy conversation. They were supposed to hate each other and in a way, perhaps it was right to say they did. She hated the way it felt like nothing had changed and he hated how much he wanted to beg her to take him back. But it would be fair to say that they could never be strangers, as unfair as it seemed.</p>
<p>"Is Matthew's heart any worse?" he asked gently.</p>
<p>Actually, no - <em>that</em> is what she hated. She hated the way that he could easily read her, how he knew what was on her mind and what was causing that frown line in the middle of her forehead. He had always been able to do that, to call her out on her bullshit and suss out what was bothering her in seconds, and while it frustrated her to the end of the earth, it once made her happy to know that they were always so in sync. And she detested the concerned look in his eyes, the look that told her he genuinely <em>cared </em>about the man that he had gotten to know, the man that had trusted him to keep his daughter's heart safe. After all, he was there when it hit. He was there on the days that Matthew spent hours in bed because it was too risky for him to get up and work, and he was there on the days that Anne sobbed into her pillow, living with the uncertainty of which day he would eventually leave them. A small part of her wanted him to hold her again and she <em>despised</em> that. </p>
<p>Her smile was bitter, telling him all that he needed to know, "...not<em> much</em> worse."</p>
<p>"Are you scared?" he dared to whisper.</p>
<p>"I used to be terrified...I used to stay up at night wondering and hoping that if I prayed hard enough, it could all be avoided somehow...", she shrugged and picked at her chipped nail varnish, "...after all this time, I guess it's just a question of which day."</p>
<p>"That doesn't mean you're not still scared...", he reminded her, "...it's normal to be scared, but you know how much he loves you. Whenever it happens...<em>he won't be alone."</em></p>
<p>She nodded, voice weak. "I know."</p>
<p>"I bet he was proud of you getting that journalism gig", he told her, "...it sounded very impressive. Which company was it again?"</p>
<p>"The Globe."</p>
<p>"Shit- <em>The </em>Globe?"</p>
<p>Anne rolled her eyes, grinning, "Yes, <em>that</em> Globe. I still don't really know how it happened, part of me will always be convinced that it is a hoax."</p>
<p>"I wouldn't be so convinced", he murmured earnestly, "...you have always been talented, Anne. You really should stop doubting yourself. I know you have dreamed of working there since you were-"</p>
<p>"Gi-I told you, it's-"</p>
<p>"What?", he teased with a raised eyebrow, but there was a darkness in his eyes as he watched her squirm, "...you can't even say my name now?"</p>
<p>He watched the heat spread down the expanse of her neck, the path that he used to follow with his fingers...his mouth...and it was just as flushed as it always was. She couldn't be mad at him for that because he had hit the nail right on the head. She couldn't say his name. She was certain that she couldn't even <em>think</em> his name, let alone <em>hear</em> it. It was a name that she had barely heard over the past year and she was scared of what would happen once she did. Oh, how desperate she was to prove him wrong - to stare right into his eyes without flinching and deliver his name in the most snarky tone she could manage, but she just couldn't get the word out. His name was a single bullet and it always had been, flying straight through her heart but never making it out the other side. She wondered if he would stay lodged in there forever, or if there would come a day where she would be forced to dig him out and leave nothing but a scar behind.</p>
<p>She changed the subject with small-talk of her own, "How's the apprenticeship coming?"</p>
<p>He clearly noticed her hesitance but decided to entertain her, eyes not moving away, "It's fine. As time-consuming as always."</p>
<p>"Made any big medical discoveries yet?"</p>
<p>His lip twitched, "Not just yet."</p>
<p>"And how's Winnie?"</p>
<p>It was like taking another bullet, but somehow easier to say. Anne was aware that she was treading on thin ice, dipping her toes into the shoreline without knowing when she was going to be pulled under the surface. And the longer that he sat there, staring straight at her without even blinking, the longer she bobbed around in the waves, staying up on her tiptoes in the hopes that she wouldn't get trapped in the currents.</p>
<p>He eyed her carefully, "She's fine."</p>
<p>"How long did it take you to ask her out?"</p>
<p>
  <em>"For fucks sake, Anne-"</em>
</p>
<p>"What?", she retorted defensively, "...it was just a question."</p>
<p>"Are you <em>really</em> going to go there?" he snapped, "...you always were just waiting for me to run to her, like I was waiting for you to break up with me all along - and I told you time and time again that it was <em>never</em> like that with her!"</p>
<p>She frowned at him, "It didn't always look like that."</p>
<p><em>"You just can't help yourself, can you</em>?", his jaw clenched, "...you always thought the worst of me, right from the very beginning."</p>
<p>"I'm just taking an interest in your-</p>
<p>He scoffed. "We both know that's not what you're doing-"</p>
<p>Anne crossed her arms over her chest. "Fine, let's just not talk."</p>
<p>
  <em>"Fine."</em>
</p>
<p>...</p>
<p>It started with a shiver, so small that he barely noticed it. She always did try to hide when she was cold, right at the start when they first met, but after that he was certain that she was purposely trying to make him notice. It was always a ploy to end up with his jacket and she would quietly thank him once he placed it around his shoulders, hoping he wouldn't catch onto her sly smile. He always did.</p>
<p>He sighed once her shivers became a common occurrence, knowing that the power being switched off had cooled the elevator and of<em> course</em> - she didn't bring a jacket, she never did. She was sat there in a dark green cocktail dress that he had never seen before, <em>and thank God he hadn't because</em> - he tried to take a deep breath. The short skirt and spaghetti straps were not doing her any favours, neither was the deep V line that exposed her cleavage. He gritted his teeth, swiftly taking off his jacket and throwing it across the room so that she could put it on. She jumped at the feeling of it landing at her feet and went to throw it back, but he shook his head and insisted, <em>"...you're shivering."</em></p>
<p>"No, really - I'm fine-"</p>
<p>"Anne, just take it-"</p>
<p>"No, I'm-"</p>
<p>He bristled. <em>"Anne."</em></p>
<p>
  <em>"Gilbert-"</em>
</p>
<p>They both stopped talking then. Anne almost froze in panic, eyes wide like a deer caught in the headlights, like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar and she suddenly realized that it had just slipped out with her even meaning to say it. And that was something that terrified her more than anything else - how <em>normal</em> it felt. All of a sudden it was all normal, for <em>Gilber</em>t to be offering her his jacket, for <em>Gilbert</em> to ask about her family, for <em>Gilbert</em> to be sitting across from her in a dark elevator. He had slipped back into her life without her even noticing and now she wasn't sure if she wanted him to leave. She had said it like she always had, like she was just teasing him and he was just teasing her, and they were both taken back to the same night. The cold night in November where they had first met.</p>
<p>It had been a stupid party that Anne didn't even want to go to. But she was coerced out by her best friends, forced to leave her chemistry notes behind and manipulated into wearing a black mini skirt that was almost too-small for her. The crowds were sweaty and she only knew a total of five people at the party so she tried to stick to the corners, sipping her alcohol gingerly and waiting to find the perfect excuse to leave. But one thing had led to another and once her friends got her on the dance floor once the Arctic Monkeys blasted through the speakers, she was <em>way</em> more drunk than she originally planned on being. And then Moody had upset Ruby and Anne had offered to go and beat his ass up, and she had grabbed Moody and spun him around, slapping him straight across the face with as much gusto as she could muster up. But then it turns out it wasn't<em> Moody</em> at all, that it was just another tall stranger with dark hair and somehow he wasn't yelling at her - he just looked like he was trying not to laugh. He had briefly recognized her from performing a heated speech about the school trying to limit expression and quickly made some cheeky comment about not being <em>that</em> surprised that <em>she</em> was the drunk girl at the party that would end up slapping him.</p>
<p>In hindsight, the signs of him being into her had been there from the start. Gilbert started hanging around by the madly decorated locker he assumed was hers, telling her jokes that weren't funny at all but made her laugh anyway, receiving a slap on the shoulder when he offered to give her a ride home. But after a couple of weeks of a <em>God-awful</em> <em>crush</em>, Anne finally let him drive her home and since then, they had been inseparable. </p>
<p>Anne let out a soft laugh, looking down at the jacket in her hands.</p>
<p>"What?" Gilbert asked, a far-away look in his eye.</p>
<p>"You gave me this jacket when we first met...", she reminded him, finally placing it around her shoulders and hugging onto it as close as she could manage without looking weird. "It's just...<em>funny.</em> Full circle and all that."</p>
<p>"Yeah...", he tried to smile, but it was somewhat sad<em>, "...funny."</em></p>
<p>"Do you remember me puking all over it when you walked me home?"</p>
<p>Gilbert laughed, <em>"Do I?</em> It took me five washes to get the smell out. I certainly returned with a few causalities that evening...bruised cheek...stinky jacket-"</p>
<p>"...banged up head", she added sheepishly.</p>
<p>He raised an eyebrow, "Well, someone was a little too <em>eager</em> when she tried to make out with a poor unsuspecting stranger in an alleyway."</p>
<p>"You liked it" she teased.</p>
<p>Gilbert looked down, not bothering to hide it, <em>"...yeah, I did."</em></p>
<p>Maybe it was the darkness, but from the moment they got into the lift, he looked sad. Maybe even from the second he turned up. There was something bitter in his eyes, and she could recognize it because it was a reflection of what she saw in the mirror every single morning. And she took a moment to look at him - to <em>really</em> look at him. When she first met him, she didn't know the burdens he was carrying. She thought of him as a ball of energy, forever sporting that cheeky smirk and flashing those stupidly pretty hazel eyes - the only high school boy she knew that actually had a decent brain. It took her a while to realize, but Gilbert Blythe had always carried around a sadness, from the very day he was born, and it was only on the night that he cried to her about his parents dying she really knew the extent of it. Throughout their time together she had hoped to lift it from his heart, bit by bit...piece by piece, but it was still there as present as ever. It suddenly broke her heart to know that she most definitely added to it over the past year.</p>
<p>"So...", he quietly mentioned, "...Ruby and Moody."</p>
<p>Anne let out a long breath, "Yeah."</p>
<p>He looked at her from under his eyelashes, "They lasted well."</p>
<p>She could feel her voice about to crack, <em>"...yeah."</em></p>
<p>They looked at each other<em> miserably</em> - there was no other word for it. It had always been a simple equation - she had told him to leave, he left. Or it could even be told as - she pushed him, he took the easy way out. But underneath those simple equations, there was a magnitude of lies and secrets, a whole chapter with mismatched pages, two different stories told with the same brutal ending.</p>
<p>He dared to ask this time, "Anne..."</p>
<p>She swallowed. "...yeah?"</p>
<p>
  <em>"What happened to us?"</em>
</p>
<p>Anne wanted to join him in taking the easy way out - <strong><em>I don't know,</em></strong> she could claim, ending the conversation there so that they could both pretend that they were anything other than <em>miserable</em>. It would have been so easy to give up like she did a year ago, to throw in the towel and maybe even resort to climbing out of the top of the elevator. And in truth, some part of her would never be able to find the right answer.</p>
<p>It all came to her in flashes, lonely nights while he made new friends, watching all of the relationships around her crumble, arguments that added up to nothing, nights without speaking, silent tears, lies, excuses - and although the events were sharp in her mind like they happened yesterday, she could never find a single word to explain how they had let everything fall apart. In the end, she was too ashamed and he was too hurt. And it had taken him this long to even ask her the question and part of her was still angry, still <em>pissed</em> - because after so many years of always being able to read her mind and just understand, he couldn't in the moment that mattered most. Maybe that was how it all started to go wrong, she had just expected him to see through her as he always did, to <em>know,</em> to <em>realize </em>- and he never even noticed. He took her words for spite and all the conversations that they needed to have just dwindled down to the same argument, <em>over and over again</em>. And that was how they ended up as they were, sitting across from each other in a broken down elevator, barely able to look each other in the eye without remembering what they used to be.</p>
<p>The easy way out was too tempting , "...I don't know."</p>
<p>His voice was filled with defeat, but she had a feeling that he was giving up in an entirely different way. "You asked why I left the party after...just turning up", he chuckled sadly, and she held her breath because some part of her already knew the answer and was just waiting to hear it, "...it was just...harder than I thought. <em>Seeing you."</em></p>
<p>"It was hard f-for me too...", she rushed out in one breath, "...I mean, I pretty much had a panic attack in the bathroom before I ran for the elevator."</p>
<p>Gilbert knew that she was hoping for him to laugh at her boldness, or to match her bitter smile with one of his own, but it just made him frown and he sat up straighter, taking the courage to shuffle closer. "Anne...I never asked Winnie out."</p>
<p>Her face fell. "I know. You said-"</p>
<p><em>"No, I need you to know",</em> he looked right into her eyes, desperate for her to listen, "...I need you to <em>understand.</em> I didn't ask her out. I didn't ask<em> anyone</em> out - just so it's clear. And no matter what you might believe, I never wanted Winnie in the way that you accused me of, I only ever wanted <em>you</em>", her eyes clenched shut at harsh confession, "...and you know what, Anne? <em>I still fucking do."</em></p>
<p>She couldn't let herself hear it, she couldn't sit there after all that time and know that it was still so fucking easy for him - "You were the one that <em>left</em>-"</p>
<p><em>"And you were the one that broke my heart",</em> he snapped, "...and if I remember correctly, you even<em> told</em> me to leave - <em>screamed it</em>, even. I just want to know why, I want to know what happened. We were together for <em>four years</em>, Anne! I was in love with you for four years and I still fucking am,  and I just want to know what I did that was so wrong!"</p>
<p><em>"It wasn't you!",</em> she cried, only now registering that she had been choking back a sob for several minutes, "...it was<em> me</em> and everything to do with <em>me</em>. And after all this time - you still never fucking<em> realized</em>-"</p>
<p>"I don't understand!", he argued, shaking his head, "...Anne, please just be straight with me for once! It's...", his eyes turned softer and her chin wobbled, "...it's been <em>killing me</em> for the past year."</p>
<p>She sniffed and he shuffled closer, placing a hand over her knee. It was a reflex, something that he had done a million times, in fact - he had touched every inch of her body and yet the lightest touch of his hand on her knee felt like she was being plugged into an electrical socket. The hair on her arms started to shoot upwards, the back of her neck turning hot and she was both thrilled and terrified to discover that it was the same desire that had been there since the beginning. It was a touch that was so familiar to her, the same place he would always rest his hand when he was trying to coax something out of her. On the night she had opened up about staying at the orphanage and about her first Christmas with the Cuthberts, he had placed his hand on her knee and words that couldn't form in her mind were suddenly shooting out of her mouth with no problem. Gilbert always used to joke that once he got her talking, he wouldn't be able to get her to stop.</p>
<p>And that's when it started. <em>"Everyone around us was falling apart, Gil...",</em> she let out a hiccup between silent tears, her throat going dry, "Diana and Jerry had that huge fight and couldn't make it work...and Charlie and Jane didn't work out...and even Tillie spent all of her nights crying over a different boy and I just...", she shook her head sadly, feeling like an idiot, "<em>...I was so scared we would fall apart too."</em></p>
<p>"...and so you broke up with me?" he frowned, "...I don't understand, why wouldn't you explain it all to me and say how you were feeling-"</p>
<p>Her voice barely came out, "I was scared."</p>
<p>"Anne...", he sighed, "...why didn't you just <em>talk to me?"</em></p>
<p>She sounded ashamed of herself, "We both know I'm not very good at that."</p>
<p>Gilbert felt smaller with each word.  </p>
<p>Anne sniffed, trying to wipe away her tears, "I just...I didn't want to be making a big deal out of nothing and I didn't want you to be mad at me, and then I wanted to talk to you about it but you started doing that apprenticeship and always hung out with-"</p>
<p><em>"...Winnie",</em> he finished off quietly.</p>
<p>She nodded miserably, "...and it was easier to blame everything on her and accuse you of having feelings for her because deep down...I don't think I ever understood why you <em>didn't </em>have feelings for her. So I pushed you away and whenever I brought up Winnie you started getting angry and then we would argue and then I would be scared to bring up how I was feeling and then another one of our friends would break up and I just...", she broke off sadly, shrugging at him hopelessly.</p>
<p>"...and I never asked you why...", he finished, flinching at the memory of all of the words he didn't mean before he slammed the apartment door behind him.</p>
<p>They were crossing his mind like distant shadows, memories of coming home late to find Anne with tear marks on her cheeks which she would later blame on a sad movie, memories of countless arguments about his blonde colleague and the hurt in Anne's eyes when he would stay late to help her get into the swing of things. He was sure that he understood now - it wasn't a lack of trust, it was a lack of attention. And he wished that he could say that he noticed it all straight away, the pain in her eyes as she told him to leave, how she tried not to cry as he packed up his things, how the smile on her social media never quite looked the way it did when he used to make her laugh. It was there from the very first day they met, beneath the tickle in her ribs as he made her  laugh harder than anyone she had ever known, whispered between their fingertips - at the time it was just an inkling and it told him that no matter how hard she tried to push him away, they could never be strangers. And after many nights of staring up at the stickers on her ceiling, whispering secrets over the phone at ungodly hours, or memorizing the lines on her palms just before her fingers linked with his - he would have let out a huge snort at the concept of Anne Shirley-Cuthbert and Gilbert Blythe being anything close to <em>strangers.</em></p>
<p>But in the moment that mattered most, he had let her slip away. He hadn't bothered to sit down and ask her what was <em>really </em>wrong, he was too swept up in the anger and exhaustion to <em>notice</em> that it was more than Winnie. And while she had given up on them - he had taken the easy way out.</p>
<p>He was seconds away from whining, <em>"Anne."</em></p>
<p>She nodded, heart filled with feelings that just fell empty, <em>"...I know."</em></p>
<p>"If I...", he blinked, eyes falling down to the floor as he started to feel like such an asshole, "...if I had just contacted you, or paid more attention..."</p>
<p>Anne's entire body felt heavy, "...<em>things could have been so different."</em></p>
<p>Neither of them knew what to do - whether to get up and shake hands, letting bygones be bygones, or whether they should have continued on as friends (that occasionally wanted to rip each other's clothes off), or whether to sit there and say nothing at all. It seemed they were settling for the latter, stuck in the hopeless limbo of not knowing what to say, or where to go from there. She was still Anne and he was still Gilbert. They were still Anne and Gilbert, and he couldn't sit there and pretend that his heart hadn't been screaming at him to turn right back around after he left their apartment, demanding that he go and make things right. But he had been too selfish, too angry, <em>too tired</em>. And he was still tired. There had been something taken from him the day that she told to him to leave, and maybe it sat there in their apartment festering away, twisting up and growing like vines of ivy. And maybe it had been there from the moment he walked into the hotel bar, from the moment he saw her in that <em>stupid fucking</em> <em>backless dress</em> that he couldn't stop thinking about.</p>
<p>"So what happens now?" he asked quietly.</p>
<p>Anne didn't seem to know what to do either. There had been a harsh sting jabbing at her heart from the moment he walked into that hotel bar.  And now it was changing, growing into something more intense, still littered with the bitterness of all the time they wasted, but the hope in knowing that for <em>some stupid fucking reason</em> - he still loved her. And she knew that they would need to talk, they might have been owed a whole year's worth of conversations that didn't morph into arguments - but for now, she was becoming <em>really</em> distracted by the lone freckle peeking out beneath his shirt.</p>
<p>How had she<em> just</em> realized that he had decided to go without a tie?</p>
<p>His eyes seemed to follow her movements and when she saw the way he gulped, her gaze fell down to watch the bobbing of his adam's apple. Those curls were <em>far</em> too neat for her liking, his skin far too untainted and she suddenly wished he had a tie for her to grip onto, so that she could yank him towards her.</p>
<p>Instead, she placed her hand over his rested on her knee, and slowly started to drag it upwards. Gilbert could hardly breathe, watching her movements as she trailed his palm further up until it was following a path on the side of her thigh. Her pace was agonizingly <em>slow</em> and her pale skin was just <em>so soft</em> and he was seconds away from pouncing on her. She always had been a horrific tease. But he let his hand stay there, firmly placed on her mid-thigh, almost gripping onto her flesh, and then he was meeting her eyes and she looked at him from underneath her eyelashes and <em>fuck it-</em></p>
<p>She tasted like his dreams - and maybe a hint of cherry lip balm. There was nothing else to say about the way his mouth slotted against hers, absolutely primal - <em>impatient.</em> Her tongue was eagerly partaking in a dance that they knew all-too well, teeth tugging at his bottom lip in the way she knew drove him crazy. <em>God,</em> it had been <em>way</em> too long since they had done this. He pressed himself closer to her and couldn't even let himself care about the awkward angle, not when her hands were reaching up into his hair at the first opportunity and tugging harshly on the roots. He was drowsy, grappling with his self-control when she ran a hand down his neck to grip onto the open collar of his shirt, swiping a thumb over that <em>fucking freckle</em> she was once obsessed with - and he swore he was seconds away from pounding into her against that wall. He wondered if her moans would be familiar to his ears, or if she would still clench around him in the most delicious way if he shoved her up against the metal and made her scream his name. Gilbert had always been a quick study, keen to experiment and there was nothing that he wanted to do more than to rediscover all of the parts of her that he had stayed up at night trying to remember.</p>
<p>Just when he was certain he would explode into a million pieces on the floor of the dark elevator, she pulled away from him and her eyes were hooded over with lust, "...the...", she struggled to breathe<em>, "...t-the cameras would be turned off, right?"</em></p>
<p>He was sure he had misheard her, <em>"What?"</em></p>
<p>Anne laughed, tugging on his hair so that he would concentrate, "...the cameras in here? They would be turned off when the power cut, right?"</p>
<p>Gilbert felt like a teenage boy again, one hand reaching over for her other hip and in a swift movement, he pulled her over his lap so that she was straddling him, <em>"...I fucking hope so...",</em> he muttered against the hot skin of her neck.</p>
<p>There she was, sat upon his lap like it was her throne. His eyes scanned her : swollen lips, smudged eye make-up, flushed cheeks - a walking sin that he would happily commit. And that dress...he wanted to write poetry about that dress, he wanted to write prose after prose and describe the millions of ways in which it made him lose control. He wanted to slide his hands up the hem of that skirt that pooled around her upper thighs, or maybe drag the straps down with his teeth, making sure that no part of her was left unmarked.</p>
<p>And then she reached up to move her long hair over to the other shoulder, those sinful auburn curls revealing more pale skin for him to explore, skin that he once knew his way around like a map of the city. His mouth dove down, pressing against the edge of her jaw, grinning proudly at how she was already shivering underneath him - but this time it wasn't because she was cold. <em>"Fuck, I love you...",  </em>he hissed against her skin, sucking long enough to leave a mark on his journey down to the rest of her.</p>
<p>"I-I...", she gasped out, digging her nails into his back through the white shirt, <em>"...I love you too."</em></p>
<p>He let his lips run down the expanse of her neck, humming lightly at the way her skin speckled with goose bumps, "...I remember how you used to moan for me...", he groaned, glancing down at her cleavage and how it dipped under the dress that she was wearing, "...and if I kissed you right about...", he took his lips to the spot that used to drive her crazy, leaving a proper smack so that she would feel it through her bones, and he grinned when she shifted impatiently against him, <em>"...here-"</em></p>
<p>Anne pushed him away from her roughly, just enough so that she could rip at the buttons on his shirt. He laughed at her eagerness and she shot him a glare, "...somebody is a little-"</p>
<p>"I dare you to finish that sentence...", she warned, pressing a hand against his bare chest so that he would jump underneath her like he always did.</p>
<p>But Gilbert was always told that he could never leave well enough alone, pushing the envelope until he got what he wanted, and so it was just that - <em>challenge accepted</em>. He could remember seeing the expanse of her pale back revealed, that green mini dress missing out a chunk of fabric from her shoulder blades down to the dimples in her back. And wouldn't it just be <em>such a shame</em> if he didn't run his hands over that smooth skin, so graciously offered on a silver platter for him to caress? His touch started out light, almost enough to tickle - barely there - but she felt it like a million zaps of electricity. She just watched him for a while, mesmerised at the sight of him exploring the skin of her back like a painter getting reacquainted with his canvas. He wasn't even touching her anywhere explicit, but the simple grazes of his long fingers had never felt more erotic, and when he looked back up at her - she tried shifting her hips impatiently.  </p>
<p><em>"This fucking dress, Anne",</em> he practically growled as his fingers dipped into her back dimples, <em>"...I swear to God-"</em></p>
<p>She let out a soft laugh against him and the sound was so warm, so familiar - <em>so trusting ,</em> that he wondered why he had never picked up the phone and begged to come back.</p>
<p>His hips rolled back up into hers and her hands on his chest fell away, her head falling into the crook of his neck. He loved getting her like this, whining against him, all open and vulnerable while he made her feel <em>so fucking good</em>. Gilbert nipped at the shoulder he could reach, teasing the strap of her dress with his teeth while she writhed against him. She caught up with his rhythm with little effort, grinding down onto him and chewing on her bottom lip so that she didn't give him the satisfaction of moaning too loudly. In the back of her mind, she prayed that the elevator security cameras really had been turned off, so that they wouldn't have to witness the way she bit into his neck and felt him tremble beneath her.</p>
<p><em>"Fuck..."</em> he groaned loudly, finally catching the strap of her dress in her teeth and tugging impatiently.</p>
<p>The silk material fluttered down to her waist and he wasted no time, letting his eyes run over her to catch every detail, to press his lips to every freckle that he had not seen for an entire year. It felt like a crime, to be deprived of her so long, and to deprive of the things that <em>somehow </em>only<em> he</em> could make her feel. And then he was bringing his head down, letting hers tilt up to the ceiling as he used his time to leave whatever marks he could on what was revealed of her chest. She stiffened beneath him, squirming impatiently and breathing out his name with every mark that he sucked in, every nip he bestowed on her, of every freckle that he traced with his lips and tongue.</p>
<p><em>"I've missed you...",</em> he moaned against her breasts, <em>"...so fucking much."</em></p>
<p>
  <em>"Gil..."</em>
</p>
<p>"You like that?" he teased, continuing to pay attention to the sensitive peaks of her chest as his hips sped up against hers. She didn't need to answer for him to know, but he just needed to hear her say it, needed to hear her beg for him again.</p>
<p>"Gil, please...I need-"</p>
<p>He shushed her, letting one hand abandon her hip so that it could slide under the hem of her dress, <em>"...I know",</em> and with that, he was stroking her hot centre, taking her to places that she had forgotten over the past year, making her wriggle and gasp against him, slurring her words as she just begged for more and more. He teased her like he always did, just applying enough pressure to leave her wanting more, testing her - <em>experimenting.</em></p>
<p>And then her hands went down to his belt and he knew what she really wanted.</p>
<p>He looked up at her and they exchanged playful grins, silently conveying with their eyes that this is what they both wanted.</p>
<p>But he asked if she was sure, just as he always did - "Are you-"</p>
<p><em>"Yes",</em> she whined, nodding at him desperately as he fumbled with the opening of his wallet and pulled out a single foil package.</p>
<p>She took control, as she often did, dragging down the zipper and lifting her hips so that she could sink down onto him. The moans that left their lips were verging on<em> obscene</em> - the sensation so heart-stopping that they both had to stop to take a breath. She still felt the same, wrapped around him and clenching in the way that made his eyes roll back to the back of his head. And he wanted to shout out to the heavens, or at least whisper a quick prayer under his pillow that night at whoever allowed their paths to cross again. That was when their lips found each other again, eyes meeting as they basked in the closeness of being joined as one again, being vulnerable in a way that only the other knew. It had been hesitant the first time, cautious, careful. But this time - both of them were impatient, longing for the intimacy they had been missing while apart. His fingers dug into her hips, leaving fresh indents in their wake and Anne whined against his neck as she rocked faster and faster, chasing the release that only he could give.</p>
<p>Her breath was hot against him and he resisted the urge to swallow her moans, wanting to hear her fall apart as well as seeing it before his very eyes. Her eyes were closed tightly, one hand leaving his shoulder to press against the warmth at the nape of her neck, listening to the sound of them connecting over and over again. He watched her, only stopping to press greedy open-mouthed kisses down her exposed neck, hands still guiding her hips as she let out a high pitched moan.</p>
<p>And when they came together - <em>always </em>together - they practically collapsed, holding onto each other for dear life. Neither of them wanted to move an inch , their bodies spent and skin sporting a thin sheen of sweat, so glorious that Anne had to run her tongue down his chest to follow it.</p>
<p><em>"D-Don't..."</em> he groaned, digging his nails into her hipbones to stop her.</p>
<p>When she finally lifted herself off him and moved their clothing back into place, they exchanged another kiss, far sweeter than the last. They exchanged shy glances, as if both trying to check that this wasn't a dream.</p>
<p>"I...", he hesitated, trying to sound jovial, "...I <em>really</em> hope that wasn't break-up sex."</p>
<p>Anne giggled, sending him a knowing look, "We broke up a year ago, and if you think this correlates in any way to a normal break up - maybe it wouldn't be a smart idea for us to try again."</p>
<p>"Maybe it wouldn't...", he grinned coyly.</p>
<p>She licked her lips, "It would probably be a disaster."</p>
<p>Gilbert reached up, pressing another peck to her jaw, <em>"...maybe."</em></p>
<p>Her eyes fluttered closed, "...most likely."</p>
<p>A finger lifted her chin so that he could find his way down her neck once more, <em>"...possibly."</em></p>
<p><em>"Definitely",</em> Anne tried to correct him.</p>
<p>Gilbert grinned wickedly, <em>"Oh - definitely."</em></p>
<p>And as they left the elevator later that night once the power returned, quickly escaping with flushed faces and rumpled clothes, sharing a taxi - <em>their laughter was hysterical.</em> They were laughing at everything that they once were, and the fresh slate that they now had to decorate, all of the new stories that were waiting to be written. It really was laughable, for them to pretend that they were strangers, to pretend that they hadn't whispered secrets over the phone line and cried in each other's arms about the things that were too painful to say aloud. It was laughable for them to pretend that they were going to end up anywhere other than there, sitting in a cramped elevator, tasting each other's skin once more. And they both smiled, holding each other's hand tightly at the feeling of that tickle beneath their ribcages, something slightly familiar - <em>just an inkling.</em></p>
<p>After all, it had been there from the start.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>special thanks to my queens (and super sweet twitter friends) : @the_lazy_eye and @orayofsunshine, for beta reading sections of this fic and for always being awesome in general. I probably would have done an awful job or exploded with anxiety if it wasn't for you guys &lt;3</p>
<p>so I was really nervous to post this, it is my first attempt at a sex scene and I haven't written angst in a while, particularly not with anne and gilbert being exes - so I hope that you enjoyed and that I was able to convey their history and issues well enough while they sorted through their feelings. I really love reading comments and whatever thoughts you have, it really soothes my worries and keeps me motivated to write - so I would love for you to write anything below in the comments!</p>
<p>I'm also lowkey glad that nobody else wrote a fic about this song first, it just fit so well with my existing idea that I reserved it with my twitter mutuals as witnesses- thanks guys xoxoxo</p>
<p>- jodie </p>
<p>social media (come say hi) :</p>
<p>twitter : @anotherdorklol<br/>instagram : @anotherdorklol<br/>tumblr : @the-strangest-person</p></blockquote></div></div>
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